


looks like we’re gonna have to take matters into our own hands

by mjscorner



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Kidnapping, BAMF James "Rhodey" Rhodes, BAMF Tony Stark, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gala Trope, Gen, Hostage Situations, Humor, Hurt Peter Parker, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Lives, Uncle James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26011147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjscorner/pseuds/mjscorner
Summary: “Now, both of you listen close and listen good. We aren’t gonna do anything.””But-“”Peter, the worst thing you can do in these kinds of situations is take matters into your own hands.”Peter bit his lip, eyes narrowed suspiciously before he turned his back to Rhodey and stared at Evangeline.“Looks like we’re gonna have to take matters into our own hands.”ORpeter and rhodey get taken hostage at a gala
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 35
Kudos: 365





	looks like we’re gonna have to take matters into our own hands

**Author's Note:**

> i present another hasty fic i wrote behind the desk at work. bon appetit.  
> WARNING: i decided to add the violence warning for blood and the tear gas

Tony _hated_ galas.

Well, sort of, anyway. He liked the attention. He liked walking around in a tuxedo with his wife hooked on his arm, and he liked bullshitting a speech on stage and getting away with it because, of course, he was _the_ Tony Stark, as Peter liked to say. 

But he hated the people. He hated the concept, hated the idea of pretending to be someone else in front of a crowd of billionaires that he almost hated more than he hated himself. Oftentimes, if he could get away with it, he would beg Pepper to go in his place.

So why, then, was Tony so upset that he couldn’t attend this gala in particular?

He watched with a heavy heart as Rhodey adjusted Peter’s bow tie, as Peter fiddled nervously with the cuffs of his suit sleeves. He watched from the couch, his daughter in his lap, as his best friend fussed over his kid, hellbent on making him look at least presentable. 

Tony had to give Rhodey credit. Making a messy-haired teenager like Peter look presentable was a hassle. 

But there Peter stood, dressed to the nines in a suit and tie with his hair gelled and his shoes shined and his overall appearance looking far too grown up for Tony’s liking. 

“All right. That’ll do.” 

Tony was pulled from his thoughts at Rhodey’s voice, watching with sad eyes as Peter nodded excitedly and turned Tony’s way.

”Well? How do I look, Mister Stark?”

Tony choked on his own words. No matter how hard he had tried to swallow it down, he still saw Peter’s grave every time he looked into Peter’s eyes, bright and full of life as if the last five years had never happened. 

“Sorry. Y-you look great, kiddo.”

Peter’s lip quirked up into a satisfied smile, eyes softening as his gaze found Morgan’s in Tony’s lap. 

“How do I look, Mo? Is Tony lying?”

”You look like a princess!”

Rhodey threw his head back with a laugh and clapped Peter on the shoulder, gesturing to the cabin door. “We should probably get going. It’s an hour drive into the city.”

”Right.”

Peter shoved his phone in his pocket and ruffled his suit jacket a bit before he was turning reluctantly Tony’s way, a sheepish smile tracing his lips. 

“I’ll see you later tonight?”

”Mhm.”

Peter tilted his head with a frown, rounding the couch to sit next to Tony. 

“What’s the matter?”

Tony shook his head, gaze suddenly finding his prosthetic arm as his daughter played with his metal fingers. The skin on his side was still raw and healing and he had long gotten used to it, but sometimes he wished he wasn’t the one going through it.

He hated this. Sometimes, he wished he hadn’t been the one to snap.

”Nothin’, kiddo. Just proud of you. Have fun tonight for me, yeah?”

Peter nodded as Tony fondly ran his fingers through Peter’s gelled hair, frowning as he tried fixing it.

”Hey, hey,” Rhodey scolded from the door, “I spent forever trying to make that look decent.”

”Well, you did a horrible job.”

“Shut up. C’mon, kid, let’s hit the road.”

”Yeah, okay.”

Peter planted a kiss on Morgan’s head before he waved sheepishly Tony’s way, rising from the couch and following Rhodey out.

”Rhodey.”

Rhodey turned Tony’s way before he could shut the door, tilting his head in confusion. Tony cleared his throat rather obnoxiously, fumbling for something, anything he could say.

”...Look after him. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

_Please protect him. I know it’s just a gala, and I know I’m known to be paranoid and irrational, but that’s my kid, and I just got him back. When I can’t be there to protect him, you can._

Rhodey nodded in understanding before the door clicked shut, the silence in the cabin living room nearly deafening.

‎⎊

Upon arrival to the Manhattan gala, Peter knew something was...off. 

Not only were his senses buzzing after he stepped out of the car, he could’ve sworn he’d made eye contact with at least ten people that looked him up and down angrily, like he wasn’t supposed to be there. Peter shrunk into himself and glued himself to Rhodey’s side like his life depended on it. 

“What’s this for again, Colonel Rhodes?”

”Jesus, Peter, how many times do I have to tell you not to-“

”Sorry, sorry. Rhodey.”

”That’s more like it. And I told you that too, it’s a fundraiser for families, you know, struggling. After the snap.”

”...Right...”

Rhodey made a glance Peter’s way, his eyes narrowed and suspicious. 

“...What’s wrong with you? What is it, your little spider tingle thing?”

”...It’s-it’s called a Spider-Sense, and-and no, everything is fine. Sorry, just, uh, nervous.”

Rhodey’s eyes softened for a moment before he clapped Peter’s shoulder and led him to their table, pulling Peter’s seat out for him.

”Loosen up, kid. Nothing to be worried about. You’re not the one that has to make a speech, here.”

”Thank god,” Peter whispered, mumbling a word of gratitude as Rhodey waited for Peter to be seated before he took a seat himself. Peter glanced around the great ballroom, watching with judgment as people in power frolicked about the marble floors and pretended to be people they weren’t.

“None of these people care about the fundraiser.”

Rhodey scoffed. “Of course they don’t. But they’re rich, and they’ll still give money to save face. That’s all that matters.”

Peter hummed, still skeptical though it made sense.

“Thanks for coming with me, by the way. I know Tones kinda forced you to, but still. Hate coming to these things by myself.”

”Oh-yeah, yeah, of course! And, I mean, Mister Stark didn’t, like, _force_ me to come or anything, I’m totally happy to-“

”Relax, kid. I can tell you’re in hell right now. We’ll be in and out. Plus, if we book it, we can pick up cheeseburgers on the way home for Tony. Sound good?”

Peter melted a bit in relief. “Sounds _great_.”

Rhodey’s lip quirked in a smirk before he caught a glimpse of someone waving him over from the stage. He rose hesitantly, clapping Peter on the back.

”Sorry, dude. Gotta do this speech thing. I’ll make it quick.”

”Okay...”

Peter watched Rhodey go before he deflated in his seat and watched billionaires mingle on the ballroom floor, dressed to the nines and taking personas and donating money to a cause they likely weren’t familiar with. 

“‘Scuse me?”

Peter’s head shot up and his eyes flew wide as he stared up at the man standing beside his table, a charming, politician-like smile tracing the lines of his face and what appeared to be a five-gallon cowboy hat resting on his head.

Peter narrowed his eyes, attempting to appear as polite as possible through his suspicion.

“H-hello. How are you, sir?”

”Well, I’m mighty fine, thank you, son.” Peter’s ears had to physically adjust to the man’s thick southern accent, his voice booming every which way.

Peter wouldn’t have been shocked if Rhodey could hear their conversation from all the way backstage.

“My name’s Richard O’Reilly. You’re part of the Stark family, yes?”

”Hm? Oh, no, no, I’m not-I’m just-just an intern. I’m here with Colonel Rhodes, sir.”

”But you’re seated at the Stark table, no?”

Peter stuttered, casting a sideways glance toward the nameplate displayed at the center of the table. Sure enough, “Stark” was written in golden ink, glistening in the chandelier lighting. 

“Y-yes. I’m an intern at Stark Industries, sir.”

“Well, uh...that’s a shame, son. Lots of folks here were looking forward to seeing Stark. How is he? After that snap?”

”He’s-he’s great. I’m sure he would appreciate you asking.”

Richard narrowed his eyes slightly, that charming smile still quirking his lip deceivingly. The hairs on the back of Peter’s neck stood up on end suddenly as he looked around the gala, noticing the several other older white people watching the conversation unfold. 

...Uh-oh. 

“Again, it’s uh...it’s a real shame Stark isn’t here himself, isn’t it?”

”...Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

Richard huffed out a laugh, seating himself beside Peter despite his visible discomfort at the action. Peter subconsciously scooted the opposite direction slightly, leaning as far away from the man as possible. 

That’s when Peter heard the safety click off of his handgun. 

Peter instantly stilled, his lips resting in a thin line as he froze in place and watched carefully as Richard removed the pistol from his suit jacket and position it underneath the table discretely, aimed at Peter’s abdomen.

”Now, here’s what’s gonna happen, sonny.” Richard maintained his southern drawl, though any charm present before had now vanished into pure contempt. 

Peter swallowed thickly, casting a glance toward an oblivious Rhodey standing backstage reading words off of a flash card. 

“Eyes here, Pedro.” 

Peter froze again, closing his eyes dreadfully. God, he knew his name. Worse yet, he knew Peter’s least favorite nickname. 

“As I was saying, here’s what’s gonna happen. Just about everyone here works for me, minus about twenty to thirty people. If you want those people to live, you’re going to come with me, and you’re going to come quietly. Is that understood?”

Peter gulped, his eyes darting between the gun now being forced into his side and Richard’s eyes, emotionless yet so full of rage. 

“Why-why me? What do you-what do you get out of this?”

”That’s none of your concern, sonny. Come quiet, or we’ll kill Colonel Rhodes and every other person here, too. Now: is that understood?”

Well, he didn’t have much of a choice now, did he?

Just as Peter was about to nod, a blood-curling scream bounced off of the walls of the ballroom, catching both Peter and Richard’s attention as they turned with wide eyes toward the source. A woman in a gown was shrieking wildly and pointing a trembling finger at another woman in a pantsuit, eyes wide and full of horror.

”She has a gun! _She has a gun_!”

Peter’s heart sunk as the woman in the pantsuit raised her pistol in the air and shot at the ceiling, chipping the marble beam above. Screams were now reverberating all around the ballroom, people scrambling for the exit.

”Son of a _bitch_.” Richard growled under his breath and yanked Peter to his feet by his suit collar, jamming his pistol into Peter’s temple as he wrapped an arm around Peter’s throat. 

Rhodey froze, now standing on the stage and watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. His eyes eventually found Peter’s dreadfully, the one thing he promised to protect now shrinking under the barrel of Richard’s gun. 

Peter could practically hear Rhodey’s heart sink right down to his stomach. 

“Everybody stay where you are!” Richard cried out, eyes darting around the ballroom as his other “employees” removed their weapons and pointed them every which way. People still screamed and ran, terrified and hellbent on escaping. 

At his last straw, Richard aimed his pistol at the sky and shot the top of the biggest chandelier, watching in satisfaction as it jolted and began falling from the ceiling. 

“ _Watch out_!”

People scrambled frantically out of the chandelier’s path, crying out as it shattered upon contact and crashed deafeningly into the marble floor.

Peter was utterly _helpless_. Richard’s employees were standing by every exit now, weapons held out and eyes vicious. What Peter and probably everyone else had thought were security guards were now attacking people as well.

 _Figures_ , he thought. 

Someone had Rhodey detained now, too, even after he’d elbowed and round-kicked his way off the stage. He sighed and held his hands up in defeat, making apologetic eye contact with Peter from across the ballroom. 

Peter didn’t know who this Richard guy was or what he and these 20 other people with guns wanted from him, but his only coherent thought was that he was completely and totally _fucked._

And, as much as Peter wanted nothing more than to hide behind Tony in that moment...

 _Thank god Tony isn’t here_ , he thought.

‎⎊

Tony had checked the clock about fifty times now, each time grimacing as if it hadn’t moved one inch. 

“Daddy, we should watch _Finding Nemo_!”

” _No_ , Morguna. Daddy hates that movie.”

”Hm. What about _Ratatouille_?”

”Sure, that works.”

Morgan fist pumped the air, clicking the large remote in her small hand and curling into Tony’s side.

Despite Tony’s ongoing anxiety, his heart fluttered at the action, scooping her up into his lap and holding her close.

He glanced back at the clock, chewing on his lip in the process.

...It _had_ been an hour and a half since they’d left for the gala. A quick phone call to make sure they made it safe wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? 

“Here, Mo, why don’t you sit on the floor and play with your blocks while the movie plays?”

”Ooh, okay.”

Morgan happily slid off of the couch and sat criss-crossed on the carpet. Tony sighed, watching her play for only a moment before he slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Peter’s number. 

‎⎊

Peter grimaced as Richard tightened the zip ties around his wrists, pressing him against the wall he was currently sitting on.

”In case you get any ideas about being the hero.”

Peter glared, turning to the side and making awkward eye contact with Rhodey, who sat on the ground beside him with his hands zip tied together just the same. Peter pulled his knees to his chest, making sure Richard and his goons were out of earshot before he leaned in and whispered. 

“Look, I could break these easily, Rhodey. I could take them out.”

”You can, but you won’t.”

”Please, I-I can’t just let all these people die. I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

”You can and you _will_ , Peter. Look, I already tried to send out a distress signal to Cap and Nat. I don’t know if they got it, but I sent it. Until they get here, we’re staying put. Capiche?”

”...Alright.”

Rhodey nodded in satisfaction, still eyeing Peter skeptically though he scooted closer to him protectively, scowling at the armed perpetrators as they walked by. 

Almost everyone was sitting against the wall in makeshift handcuffs, trembling and crying and searching for anyone who knew what to do. All eyes were on Colonel Rhodes, practically their only hope as their eyes screamed _do something, Colonel, before we all die_!

That’s when Peter felt his phone buzz.

His heart leapt to his throat at the feeling, gaze shooting down toward his pants pocket as he caught a glimpse of the screen lit up. 

Tony. 

Tony was _calling him_.

”Rhodey- _shit_ -help me get my phone!”

Rhodey snapped his head toward Peter in horror, jaw dropped as he watched Peter’s phone vibrate in his pocket. 

“Dammit, Peter, you’re gonna get every one here _killed_.”

” _Just help me_!”

Rhodey clicked his tongue before he reached his tied hands over and gently removed Peter’s phone from his back pocket, depositing it into Peter’s hands and making certain that no one saw. 

“Answer it.”

Peter nodded, swiping the call button and bringing it to his ear gently. 

“Hello?” he whispered. 

“ _Hey, kiddo. Just checkin’ in, making sure you made it there alright. How’s the party? Everything you hoped and dreamed it would be?_ ”

”Yeah, uh, I can’t really talk right now, Mister Stark.”

” _Yeesh, kid. I think the fame and fortune are getting to you. I’m just asking if you’re having a good time. And by the way, you and Rhodey are bringing Mo and I cheeseburgers, right? Cause we’re not going to sleep until you do._ ”

”...That might not work out. I’m kind of, uh, in a situation.”

”... _What kind of situation? What’s going on?_ ”

”I’m being held hostage. At the gala.”

Tony, on the other line, let his jaw drop in horror, glancing Morgan’s way before glancing at the clock behind him. Pepper wouldn’t be back from Washington until _four in the fucking morning_. 

“... _Well don’t tell me that when I can’t do anything-Jesus Christ, Peter!_ ”

”I-I know, Mister Stark, but everything’s okay. Hopefully Steve and Natasha got our distress signal, but otherwise everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

” _Nothing to worry about? Are you kidding me?! Jesus Christ, Peter, are you hurt?_ ”

”No, but-“

” _Good. Stay that way. I’m coming._ ”

”No, no, no, wait-!”

The other line clicked off. Peter clicked his tongue in annoyance, carefully hiding his phone under his leg. 

“I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

Peter made defeated eye contact with Rhodey before he looked down, eyes wide as he noticed Rhodey’s phone now buzzing in his pants pocket. 

“Your, uh, phone. It’s ringing.”

”...Help me get it.”

Peter made sure no one was watching before he carefully removed Rhodey’s cellphone and deposited it into his hands, listening carefully as Rhodey swiped the call and brought it to his ear. 

“Hey, Tones.”

” _Rhodey, listen. Peter’s in trouble. I-I know you have your speech, but he just told me he was being held hostage on the phone. Jesus Christ, I’ll bet anything it’s that Richard asshole from Texas. Just-I-I need you to go look for him until I get there. Like, now._ ”

”Yeah...I’m sitting next to him, you idiot. I’m being held hostage, too.”

”... _Fuck!_ ”

The line clicked and Rhodey sighed heavily, shaking his head as he turned his phone off and made to hide it under his leg before-

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”

Rhodey stilled, glancing up with wide eyes as one of the employees snarled down at him, gun aimed shakily at his head. Peter’s heart stopped completely, watching in suspense as the weapon remained hovered in front of Rhodey’s face.

”What the hell did you just do? Did you just call someone? Who did you call?”

”Easy, man, easy. I didn’t call anyone.”

“Bullshit. Give me your phone.”

Rhodey bit his lip hesitantly but eventually sighed, placing his phone on the floor and kicking it toward the man.

”Everyone hand over your phones! Kick them away, now!”

What were once hopeful glances Rhodey’s way were now accusatory as everyone scowled and kicked their phones toward their perpetrators, faces red and hands turning purple from the zip ties.

The employee looming over them both clicked the safety off of his gun, eyes narrowed and brows pinched together angrily.

”Now, I won’t ask again, Colonel. Who did you call?”

”I think you already know who I called.”

The employee growled, turning toward Richard who stood several feet away yet he nodded, all the indication the employee needed to fire.

” _No_ -!”

Peter cried out as a white hot pain entered his thigh, numb and not all there at first though after he got over the shock of it he was holding his breath and squeezing his eyes shut.

”Oh-oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

Rhodey overcame his shock upon realizing the bullet intended for him had somehow wound up in Peter’s leg before he was seeing red, fists clenched and eyes staring daggers into the employee’s soul. 

“That was for _me._ You were supposed to shoot _me_ , man!”

“I don’t wanna hear a single peep out of either of you for the rest of the night, you got that?”

Rhodey’s lips rested in a thin line as he watched the employee walk away, his chest puffed out and his jaw raised.

”Dammit, Peter, are you okay?”

”I-I think-I think I might be-be-“

”In shock. Say no more. Sorry, kid, I-I didn’t know he was gonna shoot you instead.”

”Not your fault.”

“We’re gonna be alright. Cap and Nat could be here any minute. Hopefully Tony stays put but we both know how he can be.”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay.”

”...Are you gonna be alright? ‘Cause if you die, it’s on me, man. Tony will kill me and I’ll drag you down to hell with me, I’m not even kidding-“

”I’ll be _fine._ Nobody is dying. It doesn’t-it doesn’t even hurt.”

Rhodey’s eyes softened sadly. “...That’s the adrenaline, Peter. Here, can you put pressure on it?”

Peter leaned his head against the wall, swallowing thickly and squeezing his eyes shut before he nodded, his hands hovering hesitantly over his bleeding leg.

”One...two...”

Peter took a shaky breath, pressed down hard on his leg, and cried out through clenched teeth.

⎊

“ _Tony_?”

Tony smiled sheepishly in May’s doorstep, Morgan sleeping on his hip. She unfolded her glasses and slipped them on, eyes wide as she tied her robe around her waist hastily. 

“Don’t tell me.”

”...Yeah. It’s our kid.”

May mechanically reached forward and took Morgan from Tony’s arms, making sure she didn’t wake from her sleep. 

“What happened? What’s going on? Is it the gala?”

”I promise I’ll explain everything later, okay? Could you just keep an eye on her for about an hour ish?”

”O-okay, yeah, I can-“

”Tony?”

Tony’s brain short-circuited as the door opened a fraction more, Happy now standing in the light of the hallway. Both of their eyes widened upon making eye contact, awkward and tense and full of implications that Tony didn’t care to address.

”...I have no words.”

”It’s not what it looks-“

”Yeah, I don’t care. Just watch my kid so I can go save my other one.”

May waved awkwardly as Tony heaved a heavy sigh and jogged down the hallway as quickly as he could, both to save his kid and to get the hell away from whatever _that_ was. 

⎊

“Psst. Hey, you guys.”

Rhodey and Peter both snapped their heads to the right, frowning as they made eye contact with a woman sitting beside them. She wore a sleek, blue gown, her hair sticking out from her bun haphazardly.

”...Yes?”

”Overheard you both talking. Nice job getting yourself shot, by the way.”

”...Thanks.”

“I know you know the Avengers. You’re War Machine, right?”

Rhodey scoffed, trying in vein to mask his satisfied smirk. 

“I might be. Who’re you?”

”My name’s Evangeline Edwards. I’m a doctor.”

”Well, that’s good,” Peter mumbled under a strained breath, trembling hands still applying pressure to his leg.

”Yeah, not that kind of doctor. Listen, I’m thinking: what if we create some sort of unexpected emergency? One they won’t be able to handle?”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow, sending a glance down to Peter’s leg. “They already shot _him_. I don’t think they’ll care much if anything worse happens.”

”Maybe not. But we can use it to exploit their unity. You know, stall until the cops or the Avengers show up.”

Peter nodded in understanding, his eyes lighting up slightly. “If they’re dealing with an emergency, they won’t be shooting innocent people.”

Evangeline nodded. “It’s worth a shot, and I don’t see any better options, do you?”

Peter shrugged. “I’m in.”

”Hey, you, zip it. Now, both of you listen close and listen good. We are not going to do _anything_.”

”But-“

”What did I just say? Peter, the _worst_ thing you can do in these kinds of situations is take matters into your own hands.”

Peter bit his lip, eyes narrowed suspiciously as he turned his back away from Rhodey and stared at Evangeline. “Looks like we’re gonna have to take matters into our own hands. What do you have in mind?”

”This.”

Peter’s senses were already delayed from the shock of his gunshot and didn’t prepare him in the slightest for the feeling of Evangeline jamming her finger into the open wound in his thigh. He let out a half scream before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he was slumping forward, falling to the ground unconscious. 

“Woah, man down, man down!” Evangeline cried, catching the attention of the various employees lurking about the ballroom and taunting their hostages with their guns.

Rhodey caught on rather quickly, wasting only a moment to nod in understanding before he was rising to his knees to the best of his ability.

”Help! Hey, we need some help over here!”

”The hell is going on here?” Richard huffed, the sound of his boots reverberating throughout the ballroom. “Tell the brat to get up.”

Evangeline pointed frantically at an unconscious Peter, her eyes wide and alert. “Yo, you guys gotta do something about this, or kid’s gonna die.”

”Hang in there, Peter. C’mon, wake up! Stay with us!”

”We’re losin’ him! We’re losin’ him, man!”

”Hey, hey, hey,” Rhodey whispered, catching Richard’s attention. “If hostages start dropping up in here? Cops are gonna be all _over_ this. You wanna add more time to your sentence or what?”

”Son of a _bitch_ ,” Richard scowled, rubbing at his temple anxiously with one hand while keeping the gun pointed at Rhodey with the other. “Okay, okay, you know what? You two,” Richard gestured to two of his employees, “pick him up.”

Rhodey’s heart dropped slightly, darting an accusatory glance Evangeline’s way.

 _Well, that was a dumb plan_.

”The hell are we supposed to do with him, huh? We’re not doctors.”

”He’s just in shock, you freakin’ idiots. Just get him outta here, I don’t need the cops or the freakin’ Avengers seeing a kid bleeding out all over the place.”

Rhodey bit his lip anxiously and watched as the two employees scooped Peter up under each arm before, finally, their saving grace had arrived.

The crash of glass followed by a distinct clinking noise reverberated throughout the ballroom, all eyes landing on a peculiar canister as it rolled to a stop in the center of the room among the shards of the broken chandelier.

Rhodey turned to Evangeline. “Cover your eyes.”

The canister exploded into a cloud of gas, the screams of the gala hostages following shortly after.

⎊

Tony could make out at least thirty or forty hostages lining the walls of the ballroom from where he stood outside, trembling and crying and zip tied. He cursed under his breath as he watched the scene unfold from one of the cop cars parked outside of the building.

They didn’t seem to be doing much so, of course, Tony would have to take matters into his own hands. 

With his chest puffed and his jaw raised, he made his way to a swat truck. Empty, though most certainly surveilled, he climbed inside and opened various briefcases until, finally, he found it.

A tear gas canister. 

He took it in his hand, the clicking of metal against metal echoing in the truck before he climbed out as discreetly as possible and snuck his way to the front of the police barricade.

”Officer Rawls.”

The officer in question turned his head, an eyebrow raised as he made eye contact with Tony before he was scoffing in disgust.

“Stark. The hell’re you doing here?”

”Your job, as usual.”

”Fuck off.”

”You, too.”

Tony forced his way through the barricade and double-tapped his chest, allowing his suit to materialize around him much to the officers’ anger. He ignored their shouts and curses as he aimed his mechanical arm and launched the canister through the glass doors, breath held and heart clenched as he waited for it to erupt.

The second he saw the gas cloud from the canister he was moving, forcing his way through the glass now that he was fully immersed in a suit. He held his repulsor ray out as a light, lenses zooming in on any hostages.

”This way! This way, everyone!”

Luckily, he was able to make out the perpetrators, at least fifteen or twenty of them lying on the ground with the heels of their hands jammed into their eye sockets.

No guns in sight. Bingo.

”FRI, do me a favor and locate Peter and Rhodey.”

” _Your nine o’clock, sir_.”

Tony snapped his head to the left, heart sinking right to his feet.

Because through the billowing smoke, Peter lay on his side, eyes closed and hands zip tied together and _white shirt smeared with blood_.

_No no no no no-_

He was charging that way in an instant, heart thundering in his chest and gaze tunneled in on Peter because he _knew_ this gala had been a mistake and he _begged_ any god that would listen to keep his kid safe but _still..._

There he was anyway, bleeding on the ground, zip tied and unconscious.

“ _Peter_!”

Tony slid to his knees and flipped his face plate up, coughing from the fumes though he was still yanking Peter up into his lap and brushing the hairs out of his face.

”Kid, wake up!”

”Tones!”

Tony snapped his head Rhodey’s way, a breath of relief escaping despite himself. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

”No, no, I’m fine, man. Kid got himself a bullet in the leg, though. He was fine until a minute ago.” 

Rhodey sent an accusatory glance over Tony’s shoulder. He frowned, turning his head to find the fiery gaze of a woman seated behind him, hands still ziptied together. 

“Well, excuse me for buying us some _time_.”

Tony spotted the blood smeared all over her hands, an uneasy feeling already overtaking him. 

“...What did you two do?”

”Not important. This kid needs an ambulance.”

A cough from Tony’s arms had him snapping his head down toward Peter, eyes wide and heart in his throat as he watched Peter blink and choke through the tear gas.

”What’s-what’s happ-“

”Peter, hey, focus, kid.”

”What’s-I-I can’t-“

”Peter, baby, look at me. I’m right here.”

Peter did as he was told, focus zoning in on his mentor looming above him. Peter frowned, looking around him and wincing at the sound of screams and the booming voices of the police. 

“Hey there, Young Buck. You with me?”

”H-hey, Mis’er Stark. What’re you doin’ here?”

”Rescuing you, kiddo. And your Uncle Rhodey here.”

Peter blinked tiredly up at him, lip quirked in a groggy smile. “But-we’re-we’re fine. We had it handled.”

Tony glanced down at the blood gushing from Peter’s thigh, swallowing down bile and fondly brushing the stray curls out of Peter’s eyes. 

“I’m sure you did. But, if I may be so bold, you did a terrible job.” 

Peter choked on a laugh, coughing through the gas as his eyes watered and his eye lids threatened to droop closed. 

“Nope, hey, kid, eyes up here. Stay awake for me, okay? I’m gonna get you to the tower and fix you right up.”

“Mm. Mm’kay.”

Tony’s heart leapt in his chest every time Peter’s eyes threatened to close. He hoisted them both up, cradling Peter carefully in his arms before sending a glance down Rhodey’s way. 

“You, uh, got this handled, Colonel?”

”I guess so,” Rhodey said, coughing into his shirt. “Since I did such a terrible job with the kid part.”

Tony, despite himself, laughed, his faceplate clicking back into place. 

“Don’t worry. No one on Earth is good at the kid part.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @mjscornerr!


End file.
